24 Tributes 24 Memories
by fssquiggles
Summary: The last thoughts and memories of the tributes of the 74th Hunger Games. What were their motives and intentions? What were they really thinking? Did they know more then they let on? Meet the 24 tributes and see in to their minds. Enjoy! :D
1. District 1: Marvel and Glimmer

**DISCLAIMER: I obviously don't own the hunger games Suzanne Collins does. **

**Listening to:_ "I Need A Doctor"_ by Dr. Dre ft Eminem& Skylar Grey.**

**Please read, review, and most of all enjoy~ **

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**_**Marvel-**_

I wasn't planning on catching the dark, little bird from Eleven. She reminded me too much of my sister. That doesn't matter, though. A District One never lets their prey go. No matter how much it hurt to see her call out for help. _Why_ did I stab her? Because _they_ said it would make the pain go away. The memory of having to watch my little sister die, because she was weak and pathetic, would be washed away with the little bird's blood, along with the others.

But_ They_ were wrong. The expression on the little bird's face was exactly like the one my little sister gave me right before she died. That expression was etched into the back of my eyelids since that very day.

I welcomed the unbearable pain from the memories I've been trying to repress. I welcomed the arrow through my throat and the utter darkness.

**_Glimmer-_**

I knew that she was doing something suspicious up in the trees. That was why I kept the bow and arrows so close. I didn't know how to use them at all but I knew exactly who wanted them. It was that Little Miss Star-Crossed Lover lurking in the trees. I smirked. And she thought it wasn't obvious at all. It was obvious from the moment she completely avoided the Archery station in Training.

Cato, Lover Boy, and the others all thought I knew nothing. Everyone thought I was completely stupid. I wished, for once, someone would look past the beauty and see me for who I really was. I knew more than they thought. I knew about Lover Boy and I knew about their "love."

I never even saw it coming, though. When the nest fell on me, I screamed, alerting the others. There was only a millisecond of terror before the tracker jackers came out. I could feel the stings grow within seconds. It throbbed and everything began to spin and converge, like a kaleidoscope. Things were crawling up my legs and arms. Eventually, I found myself in a puddle; at least I think it was a puddle.

I stared at my reflection, bewildered. I was completely unrecognizable except for the emerald eyes. I was red, ugly, and in pain. If I could, I would have smiled. Nobody would see me for my beauty, now. My vision began to fold in and become tunnel-shaped. I couldn't see anymore and the darkness was terrifying. I held the bow and arrow tight, making sure it would be easily visible.

Like I said before, I knew more than most people thought. Hopefully, Katniss would be able to find the bow. Because when did, she'd better figure out a way to get rid of these Games.

Seventy-four years of dealing with this was long enough.

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**A/N I've always had the feeling that the other tributes had more to them than SC/ Katniss let on. I plan on doing every tribute even Peeta and Katniss though they would be alive but whateva. I'll do it each chapter equals each district. :)**

**READ&REVIEW&SHARE **

**please xoxo**


	2. District 2: Cato and Clove

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, I don't own The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does.**

*****So basically I had to reupdate this because of some weird problem on . Sorry to excite you or anything (highly doubt that...) Also a couple of cuss words ahead for anyone who wants to know.**

**Listening to: "The Mad Man With A Box" by Murray Gold (heck yeah for dw soundtracks)**

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**Cato-**

It was_ supposed_ to be easy. Winning was supposed to be easy. I was supposed to bring home the glory.

And then _she_ came along. That bitch and her Lover Boy. She was never supposed to have a chance. District 12 was supposed to be a joke. They were supposed to be tributes nobody ever took seriously.

They even changed the rules for them.

I suppose that was when Clove and I decided to win together. And then she died. She died and left me alone. Not that I _liked_ her or anything. She was entertaining, and easy to use. But she was killed. That was the moment I vowed to kill every single one of them. I vowed to kill them, slowly and painfully, on Clove's behalf.

I was going to win. I swore I would win.

After destroying Thresh, the idiot who thought he was too good for the Careers, I hunted for them day and night. With my sponsor's gifts, I was invincible. Invincible and ready to kill.

I was going to win.

Yet I never anticipated the mutts. The mutts with the terrible eyes. The mutt with Clove's eyes. The forest passed in a blur, a chill shooting up through my spine. Only later did I figure out it was fear; an emotion I was never supposed to know. With that chilling dread came an unbelievable adrenaline rush. Next thing I knew, I had Lover Boy in a headlock knowing full well she wouldn't shoot. Shooting meant death for _both_ of us. I smirked, my heart beating with primal joy. She wasn't getting out of this one.

I was going to win.

I realized what happened a second too late. Fate was a bitch and so was Katniss Everdeen. As I fell to the ground, I wondered if I was going to die.

I was supposed to win.

There was millisecond of terror, full-unadulterated terror, coursing through my veins. The monsters with the haunting eyes tore at my body with ferocious hunger. I should have given up, but I swore I would win.

I was supposed to win.

I fought to come out alive. I swung at them, ignoring the tearing at my flesh. I would _not _go down without a fight. The adrenaline rushing through my head jumbled all my thoughts. My only instinct was to live. Eventually I was weaponless. I was disabled, and as those monsters tore at my flesh, clawed at my body, I wanted it to stop. I cried for it to stop. I felt as if I were being ripped limb from limb and burned alive. Why wouldn't it just _stop_? The pain was unbearable. Time was insignificant.

I was supposed to die.

Crawling out of the Cornucopia, I found her staring down at me. Katniss Everdeen. _Please._ With a look of pity, the twang of an arrow pierced through the silent night.

I told you I was supposed to die.

**Clove –**

Knives. My weapon of choice and, in my opinion, one of the most gorgeous things I've ever seen. So sharp, yet so different. Perfect for getting any job done. Some say I was just like a knife. I find that to be a compliment.

So as I tackled Everdeen to the ground, I was already thinking of which knife to carve her up with. I did promise Cato I'd give the audience a good show. I always kept my promises to Cato. Funnily enough, the idiot actually thought I would try to kill the little bird from Eleven. What fun would that be?

I cried in pain as someone yanked me into the air. Anger contorted his features, and he looked set on killing me. I didn't do it! I didn't kill Rue! Fear, intense fear, of the huge burly boy shaking me unsettled my entire being. The only other time I had felt fear like this was when I had been reaped. I would never admit it to anyone though, especially not to Cato.

How ironic was it that I would be accused for the one murder I _didn't _do? The look on Thresh's face sent me into panic mode. Before I could react, I found myself on the ground. There was an instant of perplexed wonder. I couldn't move and I could feel something warm trickling into my eyes. The moment the pain hit me; I wished I could have gone back to that instant of reprieve. The pain, the excruciating pain, racked my entire core. I couldn't move and my vision blurred and twisted in a way that made me sick to my stomach.

Only when Cato's hazy form appeared before me did I realize that the terrible screams were coming from me. _Stay with me. _Cato's disembodied voice swam through the pain and tears that flooded my system. I was crying. I never cried. As I lay there, slowly slipping away from the world around me, I was glad Cato was here with me. I didn't _like_ him or anything but he was entertaining and easy to use. He was good company. I could feel myself reaching the end. I could feel the numbing, darkness swallow me whole. Was this how they all felt when I killed them?

Cato had always said playing with my prey would get me killed one day. I wondered if the Capitol knew of that philosophy.

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**So I updated. After almost a year. I felt like I totally messed up though...**

**Anyway I love all the possibilities of Cato and Clove. They're so interesting, oh man.**

**Read, Review, and Enjoy!**

**xoxo**

**fssquiggles (I changed my penname by the way!)**


	3. District 3: Unnamed Tributes

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or these characters, Suzanne Collins does!**

**I updated because oh my god the movie was amazing and I got inspired. kjdshafjkhjkh**

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**District 3 Boy Tribute -**

I learned how to reconfigure those bombs. I thought that maybe, _just maybe_, I could figure out a way to win. Teaming up with the Careers, even if I was only being used for my knowledge, seemed like a good idea at the time. It _was_ a good idea, wasn't it?

Beetee had always told me to use my knowledge to my advantage. I never thought I was that intelligent to begin with, but I guess I was wrong. I just wish I could have outwitted Cato and the other Careers in the end. What's the point of being smart if you can't even outsmart death?

At least my bombs backfired on them.

At least death came quickly.

**District Three Girl Tribute-**

A quick death was always my plan.

Beetee had told me not to enter the Bloodbath. I remember the look in his eyes. It was as if he had been giving me a choice. Die quickly at the Cornucopia or try your hardest to win. I would have tried my hardest; I swear it. However, I had been giving a choice, and the answer was a lot more complicated than I though possible. I spent hours hypothesizing and analyzing the outcomes.

Yet I couldn't shake the memories of my godmother, Wiress. My parents were clever. After they passed they left me with the perfect person, a Victor. Wiress had more than enough money and resources to take care of me for as long as I lived and more. However, I couldn't and wouldn't go back. I couldn't stand her broken sentences or her arbitrary days of complete and utter silence. I couldn't stand the wild intelligence she possessed.

No, I couldn't go back.

So the night before the games I told Beetee my choice. He only nodded, almost mechanically.

At that moment, upon that circular platform, I only felt empowered.

I made this choice and, if anything, choice was one thing the Capitol could never ever control.

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**Guys, that movie though. Yes, I wish they kept some things, but that movie is definitely one of my tops though. OH MY GOSH AKJHSDKFJH Sooo much fangirling right now!**

**Also District 3 was hard because there's little we know about them, and I hope I did them justice!**

**Reviews are puppies, the Catching Fire movie, and Finnick Odair in his underwear.**

**xx**


	4. District 4: Tributes

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does. And I guess Lionsgate too?**

**Anyway, I updated ayyyyyeeee. Thanks to everyone who alerted, favorited, and reviewed. Finnick Odair in his underwear for all of you! Enjoy!**

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**Boy-**

They told me my odds of winning were fifteen to one. Excellent odds, they said. I believed them too. I think, in the end, I would have believed anything as long as I didn't have to die.

I could have joined the Careers.

I was actually _supposed_ to join them.

But I didn't trust them.

Instead, I decided to join little Rue, the only one closest to my age. I was positive she wouldn't try to kill me in my sleep. It was comforting, really.

Finnick had suggested I stay away from the Cornucopia. But as soon as I saw the Cornucopia, spilling with weapons and supplies, I decided to take the risk. The gold flickered like the sunsets back home. I really missed my home.

I'd like to think that I would have made it out of the Bloodbath. If only the big, intimidating boy hadn't caught sight of me. If only.

I don't remember exactly what had happened next; it all happened too fast.

I do remember seeing things that I thought I had forgotten because of the past few weeks. I remembered the sunrises, my little sister's large blue eyes staring up at me, the feeling of accomplishment when I first learned to swim, the soft sand between my toes, the smoky taste of fish, the crashing of waves, the taste of sea salt on my tongue, the feeling in the pit of my stomach when my name had been called, the hollow look underlying my parent's proud expressions, the victor with the shrieking voice and bright green eyes, the hugs, the last sunset.

The last thing I saw before death was life.

All twelve years of it.

**Girl-**

I trained all night and I trained all day. I trained with _the_ Finnick Odair, for ocean's sake. I _was_ not going home in a box only to be to become worm food and fertilizer. At least I thought I wasn't.

Axes were my strong point. Little boys as District partners were not. Although he was stronger than half the tributes, I decided to ditch him as quickly as I could. He was too young…too little. Too familiar.

I'm not proud to say I happily killed my fair share of tributes. I'm not proud to say that I didn't even flinch when I learned that Cato killed the little boy. What else was I supposed to do? I didn't sign up for this, but I didn't sign up to die either.

The night we waited for Katniss Everdeen under the tree, I dreamt of a storm.

I would never forget the scream as it ripped through the silent night. That was when all hell broke loose. The stinging, the blonde hair flying, the screaming, the blood. The blood was _everywhere_.

I dropped my pack and ran, unable to leave the fatal wounds behind me. The painfully excruciating minutes that ticked by slowly, and at some point I was unable to stand let alone walk. I knew they had to be hallucinations. He wasn't actually there. He was dead. He was buried. I watched them do it. I tried to reassure myself. I told myself that it wasn't real, but it didn't work. Warm liquid streamed down my face and I didn't know whether it was blood or tears, or even something else entirely.

The last thing I saw before death was the fear I thought I had managed to crush years ago.

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**A/N This thing is so darn angsty sorry about that. District 4 is my favorite District and I hope I did them justice. Also I got the ages off the hunger games wiki. Also I think I'm going to start giving them names btw because it's very annoying writing unnamed tributes.**

**And I think I might do the Quarter Quell tributes because they have a past and stuff and more info. Maybeeeeeeee**

**Remember: Reviews are magical powers, fudge brownies, and/or rainbow pooping unicorns.**

**xx**


	5. Chapter 5: Unnamed Tribute and Foxface

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but I do own backstories I guess, oh whatever. Also I was highly influenced by listening to "Bluebird" by Paper Rival which is probably why everything is so darn angsty. I should change the genre. Enjoy!**

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**Unnamed Boy Tribute-**

There was a single moment when I realized I was finished. I had already hit the ground, metaphorically speaking. I think, interestingly enough, that I had been falling for a long, long time. My downward spiral had started long before I stepped into that bloodbath.

I guess when you spend your whole life learning to harness the power to run the rest of the country you end up forgetting how truly, _truly_ powerless you really are.

Powerless against the Shortages.

Powerless against the Peacekeepers.

Powerless against the Reapings.

Powerless against Death.

_Powerless._

In the beginning, I was a mess. I kissed _a lot_ of girls; I even kissed a few boys. I illegally drank myself to stupor, especially when the coffin came home, my sister's coffin. I tried to find something, anything, to keep me aloft. I think I found it, when I stopped kissing all those people, when I stopped getting into shouting matches with anyone who tried to get too close. I found it when I found her. (I'd never ever say any of this out loud, but I think I _loved_ her. I wonder if she knew that.) I think the moment she and I decided on each other was the moment I started falling.

(When I think back on it, I just wish I had told her all those cheesy things she wanted me to say.)

I'd like to think everything made me stronger, smarter, better. I learned what not to say in public, thanks to my dad, I learned about love and friendship, and I learned that Reapings were never actually random. I think all those things I learned made me want to fight, but only succeeded in making me even _more_ powerless. The Capitol made sure of that.

But I don't think I regretted anything.

**Foxface-**

Father always used to say a lot of things. Once, a short while ago, he had told me that he was a simple man and all he needed was "these four walls and my two girls."

(For the record, I never believed in coincidence.)

I remember a lot of shouting and a fire, a blaze so bright and startling, swirling everywhere and anywhere. I thought it would swallow me whole. (For a fleeting second, I wondered if anyone would believe this fiery _monster _was my hair and me.) I'm a quick learner though. I learned to run and run fast. But I don't think I could ever run away from the expression on my father's face or what he had said afterwards. He embraced Mother and me in a bone-crushing hug and said, quietly,

"They took my four walls, but they'll never take my girls."

My brain was reeling over his words and it never stopped. I remembered things I usually overlooked from long ago. Angry whispers, strangers in our home, a look, a horrid, _calculating_ look.

I remember watching a rose float amongst the ashes of my home, its pure, white petals prominent. It was so blinding, I couldn't look at it for longer than a few seconds. And when I looked back, it was gone, and my father ruffled my hair with a shaking hand.

He looked down at me for far, _far _too long before repeating to me what he said a million times before, that I am too clever for my own good.

Before we knew it, the Reapings happened. I didn't want to believe that I had anything in common with the boy, the one whose father talked too much. Maybe we were both paying for our father's sins, if not our ancestors', the boy suggested. I punched him for saying such a thing, although I did wonder if he was right.

The boy only scoffed at me and told me we were powerless to what would eventually happen. He told me to stop being stupid. He was the first one to _ever_ call me stupid, so I laughed. I wasn't stupid and I wasn't powerless. I was clever and the boy was a complete idiot.

Before I snatched the berries from Peeta Mellark, I dreamt of my family. My mother holding my hand and my father ruffling my hair and telling me I was too clever for my own good. I always used to roll my eyes at that. I mean, how can one be _too_ clever?

I literally ate my own words a few hours later.

I _was_ too clever for my own good.

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**angstangstangst**

**I don't know why, but I kind of wanted to go more in depth and I thought I was pushing the word count, but I guess not.**

**Foxface has sososo many possibities and it'd be nice if I got some feedback on her and her district buddy (who's 16/17 in my mind)!**

**I just want to take a moment to say that I love all you readers, favoriters, alerters, and reviewers. And even you lurkers. Yeah I know you're there :P You guys make my day!**

**Virtual hugs and kisses to all. **

**xx**


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